Monday, September 30, 2013

Just Another After School Special - Part Five

Just Another After School Special
Part Five
Eva Rayne

Hey Izzie, I'm glad you came,” Nick said as he invited me inside. I took a tentative step forward but his smile gave me all the courage that I needed to walk a little more confidently into his apartment. I could hear the door closing behind me but I was preoccupied looking around the apartment.

It was small; your typical college apartment. It didn't scream 'A college guy lives here,' though and I couldn't help but wonder if he had picked up before I came over. A small part of me, including those pesky butterflies, hoped that he had.

The front door opened up into the living room which was furnished with a beaten up, but comfortable looking couch, an old lazy boy and a large TV mounted on the wall. There was also a coffee table with faint rings from beer cans, or at least I imagined they were from beer cans.

Would you like the grand tour?” Nick asked, stepping up next to me and smiling.

I smiled, “That would be nice.” Nick looked slightly more relaxed than he had when he opened the door. He reached out and took my hand, gently intertwining our fingers. His hand was warm around mine and I couldn't help but notice that even though my hand looked small compared to his, our fingers fit together almost perfectly.

We looked up at the same time, catching each others gaze. He squeezed my hand lightly and we both smiled, my grip on his hand tightening slightly for a moment.

Come on, let me show you around,” there was noticeable relief in his eyes, he had been worried that I would pull my hand back. The butterflies in my stomach were having a field day.

Lead the way!”

I had been in the campus apartments before and Nick's wasn't much different. He had a small kitchen off the living room and his room and a bathroom were down a short hallway. When we got back to the living room he shrugged almost embarrassed, “It isn't much, but it's home for now.”

I like it,” I said, squeezing his hand lightly.

Good.” That amazing smile was back on his lips and the twinkle in his eye made me want to kiss him right there.

So, thoughts about dinner?” he asked after a slight pause, “Did you have anything in particular in mind?”

I shook my head, “I hadn't really thought about it,” I laughed a little, “What had you been planning before I texted you?”
Nick thought for just a second, “Have you been to that diner just off campus? The one on Clark?”

I had to think for a minute, trying to picture Clark Street. “I think so, is it the place that looks like it's straight out of the fifties?”

That's the place!” He looked excited that I had been there. “Do you wanna go?”

That sounds great.” Tori and I had gone down there the first week of school and as far as I could remember the food had been good. Then again, I was pretty sure anywhere would be good tonight.

Nick had grabbed his keys off the short book shelf by the door but he paused for just a second before he opened the door and turned back to face me.

You know what, before we go I wanna do something.” The next thing I knew he had pulled me to him, one of his hands resting on my hip, the other cupping my cheek. I had just realized what he was doing when his lips met mine.

It wasn't an overly long kiss, it wasn't something that was packed with passion and made me want to rip his clothes off right there. Instead it was soft, full of the promise of more to come, my skin tingling where he touched me. It was everything a first kiss should be.

There,” Nick said with a smile as he pulled back, both hands now resting gently on my hips, “Now we can go.”

Saturday, September 28, 2013

Dear Jon - Chapter # 9

Hello all! My name is V.L. Locey.  I am a self-published and traditionally published author that lives in the mountains of Pennsylvania with my husband of over twenty-two years, my daughter who is seventeen, a herd of dairy goats, chickens, geese, ducks, turkeys, two dogs, two cats, and a partridge in a pear tree. For more info and links about me and my work, check out the Bio tab up above.

Being a fan of music – and many other things - from the 40`s - I thought it would be keen to include the links to the songs mentioned in this story. Here`s Paper Doll by The Mills Brothers. Feel free to play them as you read for atmosphere or wait until you’re done.


Dear Jon

Chapter Nine


V.L. Locey


See, this is what I never understood about God. One minute he`s using you for punting practice. The next he`s got one of the most fantastic looking men he ever molded from clay smiling at you as you enter his humble shop. Not just a ‘Hey, how are ya?’ smile’ either. There was real pleasure in those slate grey eyes of Ross Coleman`s.  The bell announcing our presence was a pleasant sounding one, ringing joyfully just over our heads.  I heard the Mills Brothers singing from the backroom.

Andrew was now loosening his grip so that I could feel my fingers. The shop was a small one, but man alive, was it something to behold. Fine furniture crafted by hand filled the shop. Tables, chairs, rockers, hutch cupboards, cradles, and porch swings. You name it, and Ross Coleman could make it, and make it well. Inhaling deeply, my nose tickled as minute particles of wood dust entered my nostrils.

“Well, look what the sunshine brought out.”Ross called, stepping around a tall book shelf of honeyed oak. The wood gleamed in the bright rays streaming in the wide front windows.  Andrew released my hand to hug my leg. Walking became interesting. I met Ross halfway. The handshake lasted a second longer than society called for. I was intrigued, but too damned blue to act on it. “What brings you into town?”

“Your truck door,” I said, jerking my head at the front window. Ross raised an eyebrow. There was sawdust in the creeping brow. His black-and-silver hair had a fine coating of wood powder as well. He wore old trousers, a short-sleeved shirt, and an old leather apron. The urge to get my hand under his apron nearly blinded me. I do have a weakness for older men. Tipping his head to peek around my noggin, Ross gazed at his truck parked along the curb, and then looked back at me. “It was me that stove it in. Since I was in town to pay that old grave-tender Martin, I figured I might as well drop in and apologize for the damage.”

“Heck,” Ross said, a slow smile breaking free, “I hadn`t even noticed it. You said you were over to Martin`s? I hope no one close passed.”

“My sister,” I replied, my hand dropping down to rest on Andrew`s sandy-blond head. “His mother,” I added gently. Ross looked down at the lad stuck to my leg like a burdock.

“I am so regretful to hear that.” The man turned from us. He had to sloop and slew like a circus acrobat to fit around all his creations. Behind an old beaten counter he went and then disappeared. I looked down at Andy. He looked up at me, clearly curious as to what was going on. His fingers were tugging the hairs on my legs through the material of my pants, but I didn`t pry him off. That funeral home had scared me as well. When Ross appeared once more, he had a stout wooden horse in his hands. “This is for you,” he smiled, dropping down into a crouch in front of Andy.

“Mr. Coleman, you don`t have to do that,” I said. Andrew reached for the toy horse then stopped when I spoke up.

“I`d like the lad to have it,” Ross said, holding the horse out to Andrew. “I made them to keep the children occupied while the parents shop. He`s more than welcome to it.”

Ross stood up. Andy hugged the clunky horse to his chest.

“That`s very kind, Mr. Coleman,” I said with candor. He brushed off the sentiment, uncomfortable with the praise. “What do you say, Andrew?”

“Thank you,” Andrew squeaked.

“Please, call me Ross, and I`ll call you Jon. That`s the neighborly way of things here in Hannity Hills.”

I nodded, fully aware of how neighborly Hannity Hills could be. I took off my out-of-shape Fedora. The store was rather stuffy. I removed my hankie to mop my brow.

“So, you stove in my truck door? I`m afraid that will cost you, Jon.”

The way he said it jerked my attention from my sweaty forehead. I lowered the handkerchief I had been dabbing with.  Was I just hoping to see what I thought was attraction in his thunderstorm eyes? I`d been around the block a time or two, and thought I could read the signs. The bell over the door tingled, shattering the moment like a mallet to the knee. We both took a step back instinctively. A woman called gently from the doorway.

“Why don`t you and the lad meet me at the diner where the accident occurred tonight at six, and we`ll discuss settlement for the door.” Ross smiled politely but the smolder in his eyes was anything but urbane. I wavered. He patted my arm as he left to attend to his customer. “I`ll be there, if you come that`s fine, if not, we`ll meet up somewhere else. I hope I haven`t offended you.”

My palm resting on Andy`s head, I watched him wiggle around a claw-foot end table. The lad began to chatter to his horse. Asking for his hand, I led my charge through the narrow passages, pausing at the front door. Ross was showing a reedy woman in a plain brown dress a delicate shelf to hold whatnots. He looked up when the bell chimed.

I nodded then tapped my old wristwatch, indicating to mind the time. The man inclined his head. ‘Message received’ his smoky gaze said. Outside Andy and I went, my burden feeling somewhat lighter.

“Time to get some staples,” I said, heading to Henderson`s Market on Main Street, my nephew tight to my side. The way finances were going, Andy and I would need every S&H Green Stamp we could beg, borrow, or steal.


Friday, September 27, 2013

The Good Girl - Chapter Four

If this happens again, I'm going to spank you. How could one simply uttered ultimatum throw my world into absolute chaos?

My name is Maxi McConnell and I live a double life. Don’t worry. It’s not nearly as nefarious as it sounds. It’s more a simple case of perfection vs. reality. The Perfect Maxi is just that… perfect. Impeccable clothes, immaculate hair and make-up, topped off by a sparkling personality. The Real Maxi…not so much.

I’ve happily played the role of Perfect Maxi for Thomas Graham, my sexy attorney boyfriend over the last several months. But something happened recently that sent our relationship careening into uncharted territory. It seems Thomas doesn’t want Perfect Maxi, he wants Good Girl Maxi. The only problem is I’m not sure how Real Maxi fits into the equation, or if she does at all.

Read Chapter One - Here
Read Chapter Two - Here
Read Chapter Three - Here

The Good Girl
By Fiona Summerville

Chapter Four

“What’s your problem, Maxi?” Kendall asked, as she sipped her Chardonnay. “You've got a guy who’s so into you that he wants to fuck you six ways 'til Sunday, AND he’s cool with your quirky personality. Hell, he told you himself he's falling for you."

"But Kendall," I corrected her. "He hasn’t really seen my quirky personality. He's seen Monday Morning Maxi. Not Closing Time on Saturday Night Maxi. You know she can be pretty scary."

"Ugh…I just don’t get that about you, Max," Kendall said, resting her chin in her hand. "The real you is so cool. Why do you put up a facade?”

I shrugged and sipped my wine.  She’d known me long enough to know the answer.

"Maxi, not all guys are like Douche Bag Dave."

I sighed and felt my brow furrow as I pretended fascination with the condensation on my wine glass.

Dave was my ex-fiancĂ©. A gorgeous blonde Adonis of a man who had seen and, I thought, loved the Real Maxi. That was until I caught him playing kissy face while walking hand in hand through the mall with my co-worker and supposed best friend at the time. There I sat, staring out the window of the hair salon, foils in my hair, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. I was hurt and angry, but unable to do anything about it without looking like even more of a fool than I already was by storming out of the salon in full cape and foils. His betrayal was what convinced me that in order to never be hurt, it was necessary to playact. Why? Because I knew for a fact that Cassie, the girl he dumped me for, did exactly that. She was pretty as picture in public, but a hot mess when she was on her own time.  I decided I would become Perfect Maxi, the pretty bit of fluff the guys could wine and dine for a few months before she grew bored and broke it off. Doing that assured me that while someone else might have a dark night of the soul, it wouldn't be me, because she wasn’t me.

"Trust me, Maxi. They’re not. He’s not," Kendall said.

I snorted softly and took another sip of wine.

Kendall sighed. "I want you to come home with me, Maxi."

I shot her a questioning look. "Why?"

"There's something you need to see."

Kendall's place was a funky duplex style condo on a narrow winding road in a remote part of the San Fernando Valley. Eclectic pieces of art took up every inch of wall space, her mantle and bookshelves were places where books and knickknacks went to gather dust and her kitchen sink held at least two days’ worth of dirty dishes. She didn’t care that her place wasn’t spotless, and I loved that about her.

"What time is it?" she asked, tossing her handbag on a nearby chair.

I checked my phone. “8:40”

"Damn, we're late! Come on.” She took me by the hand, and practically dragged me up the stairs to her bedroom and through the French doors that opened onto an enormous patio deck.

"Sit here," she said, patting the back of one of two lounge chairs. I took my seat and watched as she retrieved a pair of binoculars from beneath a lap rug on the other lounge chair, and then handed them to me. I was confused. Granted, it was a beautiful night, but I didn’t know how star gazing was going to help make up my mind about whether or not to let Thomas spank me. I stared at her, my mouth slightly agape.

“There, look,” she said putting the binoculars up to my eyes, and turning me to face the houses across the street. “The big chalet style house across the road, focus on the big picture window downstairs.”

I focused the binoculars on the window and a couple sprang into view. Woah. The man wore dark slacks and a white shirt with a ruby red tie. His tie was loosened and the top few buttons of his shirt were undone. He wasn't wearing a jacket. He looked as if he’d just gotten home from the office. I’d seen Thomas sporting that same look many times. I even fantasized about it. Right down to the sleeves rolled up just below the elbows. Oh yeah, Mr. Ruby Red had his sleeves rolled up, too. The woman, a tiny blonde, was bent over the dining room table. She had on a silky white blouse with a black skirt and was wearing a pair of the most amazing Come Fuck Me pumps I’d ever seen. Her arms were outstretched, the fingers of her left hand grasping her right wrist. Her eyes were closed, and her expression was serene as the man methodically lifted and folded her skirt until it sat neatly just above her hips. Oh my God. This was one of the sexiest things I’d ever witnessed. I could feel dampness gathering between my legs, and they hadn’t done anything, yet.

“They do stuff like this every night. I've been watching them for the past month," Kendall whispered, as if she thought the couple might hear. “They come home, have dinner and then have some incredibly kinky sex.”

"Jesus, Kendall. How did you find out about them?"

"Well, remember when my AC went out during the heat wave last month? I had to sleep with the windows open and one night I heard noises. Moaning, sighing, even a growl. I looked out the window, but couldn’t see anything. It wasn’t until I stepped out onto the deck that I saw them. They were on the second story balcony, there in the middle. She was draped over the banister. He was standing behind her, one hand on her shoulder, the other on her hip, and her was just driving into her. I tried to look away, but I just couldn't . They were so fricking hot. I grabbed my binos from the storage bin and zoomed in on them. Her face was so pretty. Glowing, almost. I've never seen a woman look like that before. Not in real life, not in porn. Not ever."

"How did you find out they do this every night?"

Out of the corner of my eye I saw her shrug. "I just started watching."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

I glanced away from the couple and lowered the binoculars. Even in the darkness I could see Kendall was blushing.

"Right. What was I supposed to say? Hey Maxi, why don’t you come over tonight? We’ll pop some popcorn, crack open a bottle of wine and watch the neighbors have kinky sex. You would have thought I’d lost it."

I shrugged and snorted softly. "I love popcorn and wine."

She giggled, and I turned my attention back to the couple. He now held a paddle in his hand. I shifted in the lounge chair. I had a sneaky suspicion that things were about to get a little more interesting. The man leaned down and whispered something in the woman’s ear, then lowered her panties. He spun the paddle twice before delivering the first blow.

I gasped as the paddle made contact with her ass. God, that was sexy. Kendall was right, the woman was pretty. With every blow of the paddle, her eyes fluttered back in her head for a moment, and then she would smile. She loved what he was doing to her…so did I.

The man was magnificent. I couldn’t see his face, but it didn’t matter. It was all about his attitude. He was pure, raw power and sex. His moves were hypnotic. My pussy clenched each and every time he brought the paddle down. One cheek and then the other. I wanted to be in that room with them. To hear the sound of the paddle connecting with her skin, to hear her cries, and hear his hissed commands.

I couldn’t believe how turned on I’d gotten just watching them. My entire body was on fire. Had I been by myself, I would have quickly taken care of the need that had built up over the last few minutes. But I wasn’t, so I did the only thing I could do. I clenched my thighs together and prayed the friction from my slacks didn’t send me headlong into an orgasm in front of my best friend. 

My heart was pounding, and my breath (when I actually did breathe) was shallow. I watched the woman’s face contort in ecstatic pain. I want to be her, I thought. Now I understood why Kendall had insisted I come.

"Do you want that, Maxi?" Kendall whispered, leaning forward, her hand gently squeezing my knee.

Lowering the binoculars, I turned away from the beautiful couple and stared out into the darkness. “Yeah, I think I do."

Thursday, September 26, 2013

Textual Exploration.

Ok so this week we are going back to school and I am trying something new, with so much of the modern world being SMS/email/whatsapp or IM can we tell a short story for the modern world, can we show a seduction in symbols, a ravish through the radio waves intercourse through the infra red?

Who knows but I will have a bloody good go.  Ben

Picture the scene, a busy High school a girl in a wheelchair bashfully slips a note in the locker of her crush, on a dare, on a lark, a girl who doesn't speak except through notes, how would she seduce or be seduced?

Lukas lay on his bed staring at the phone his mind blown by the revelations of the last few texts, Layla the girl he secretly dreamed of talking to whilst waiting for class to end not only liked him but was “Crushing on him” and she was flirting with him heavily, he blushed as he reread the last message. Fuck he was going to be frustrated tonight. He sighed, grousing under his breath as he went to bed resigned to the fact that he’d have to change the sheets in the morning and probably his pj bottoms.
Layla lay against the cool plastic of her shower-seat, the shower head in her hand, punishing jets of water soothing her aching muscles as she thought, tense in her back and in her brain as she wrestled with nerves, with fears and with dreams she had never before dared voice.

She had been daring and teasing and hoped to God it worked. She shifted her position slightly facing away from the camera so her blush couldn't be seen, her phone snapping a shot of just her hair and upper back her leopard-print  tattoo on her shoulder so she knew he would recognize it as her and not a net pic. She hit send and breathed slowly, placing the phone out of reach and pressing the shower head against her wetness gasping, riding that wave as the jets slammed into her body. Dragging her limp limbs out of the shower she crawled to bed blushing waiting for the morning.

Lukas’s phone began bleeping harshly, atonally, dragging him out of his fantasy just as he was about to reach that crescendo, grumbling swearing to himself “If that’s Steve drunk texting about an epic white castle dump again I will kill him.” he thought resigned to frustration through his dreams. He clicked through the menu seeing it was a MMS message and pausing worried it was a drunk pic of the aforementioned white castle dump.

Seeing it was from Layla he figured it was safe and clicked to open the mms message, his body firing as if gripped by some hot wet vice as he saw her soft smooth skin, the lather of soap and the tattoo he admired for its contrast.
"FUUUUUCK" he mewled. He scrawled a reply blinking in the blinding light of his iphone waiting nervously. Was she teasing, was this a message, a harbinger of more? He waited with baited breath for a reply.

What he got was teasing, coy. He could imagine her shy smile and wave, the one he saw at the end of every class. How had he missed her before? Wow!. 

He lay in bed running those words through his mind… surely she didn't, she couldn't, but maybe hopefully. . .  God I hope so!  He drifted off in a dream world of pink leopards, prowls and  purrs all entangled around a beautiful dark haired girl.

She lay tense, nervous, hoping she hadn't gone on too strong, too intense. Worried and hoping that he wanted her, that she wasn't being a fool, that this wouldn't be  spread around school as the latest joke. Like when she’d sent Larry a Valentines card in Junior High and he’d thrown it back at her and told her he didn't need a girl who licked windows instead of cocks.  She remembered the jeers and laughter from his friends. So she had hidden her attractions even as she was becoming more and more aware of her lusts, her wants, needs. She cried, watched others love and be loved, feeling guilty observing and writing, watching from the sidelines, feeling a frog as she organized the dances, the Valentines formals, and the love notes section of the paper. 

All these feelings, channeled into her art, her drive to excel, into anything but expressing her desires. She hid them to make others comfortable. Being the good asexual token cripple until that day, until she cried. Until someone saw how desperately unhappy she was behind the mask. Until that conversation with her form teacher, Ms Macyntyre, who forced her to open up, forced her to talk,  to show the world who she really was.

 The woman who talked openly of love and sex, of exploration, and told Layla that she needed to be herself and live for herself, not to make others comfortable.  Ms Macyntyre  lent her books on confidence, on writing, on sex, on sexuality and through those she found herself. She found that she needed to be herself, needed to fall in love and lust.  Found that she wanted to be human, not an asexual  token that they talked about behind her back. Not some bauble to show how inclusive they were, not some half heard,asked stupid questions of and looked at as a mascot. She wanted to work, to date, to love, even to try the things she had read about. She lay breathless and tired, exhausted by fear and arousal as she waited for the new dawn, her new world.

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

This Night: Afterglow

  Can someone turn a fan on?  It's  quite hot in here!  Things progressed quickly last week with Sophia, Antony and Brandon and left us in a puddle of goo.   Will Sophia regret her decision? 

Storytime does not own rights to this image
 This Night: Afterglow
Eythan Rogers


“Hey, Soph. Focus here.” 
Kim’s snapping fingers in her face literally snapped her out of her daydreaming. She could feel the stupid grin on her lips too. There was no hiding it. Good thing she never played poker because you could read her like a damn book.

“Sorry. I was just..” 
There was no good excuse and nothing believable came to mind. Sophia kept pushing her ketchup and mayo mixture around her plate with a now cold French fry. She had come to lunch with her best friend like they always did on Saturdays. Except this time it wasn’t just their normal everyday talking. Kim kept pushing her about her unforgettable night. She knew Kim and there was no stopping her pushing but she honestly just wanted to let it go and keep it as the memory that it will be. There will be no next time. Hell, she didn’t even get their last names or cell numbers. Talk about never wanting to see her again in black and white. She snorted to herself and shook her head. She was such an idiot, like she expected anything more to come of this? She knew coming into that night that it was going to be once. And they knew the same. So why was she even analyzing this right now??

“Sophia Lynn!!” She jumped at Kim's Domme tone and her hand that slammed against the table.

“Alright! I’m sorry. I don’t really want to talk about it. And don’t you see enough of that stuff at the club? My night was probably nothing in comparison.”

She watched as Kim sat back in her chair and with a cocky smile crossed her arms over her chest. Her already huge boobs being compressed together and practically spilling out causing the bus boy to nearly loose his bucket of plates. Sophia rolled her eyes and just shook her head.

“Well, I have seen many things but none of them interest me as much as this does. Both Brandon and Anthony said they had a great time.” She smirked again and there was no doubt Sophia’s face gave her away again.

“They told you what happened??”

Kim shook her head and sighed with disappointment. “No., they didn’t have to say anything. They can keep their mouths shut better then anyone I know. But it’s not hard to know when a man, or men had a good time when they walk around with the same stupid smile you have. Yeah, yeah, make up whatever little excuse you’re trying to in that head of yours. I’m no idiot.

Her stupid smile was coming back and she could feel it. Damn it! She had to stop that. No good ever comes from looking back and hoping for something that can never be. Ugh! Sophia let out a sigh happy that Kim didn’t know all the detail from that night. As much fun as she had she wanted those memories to be hers alone. Even her best friend was going to be left in the dark on this one.

“So enough about me, how’s the club business going. Whip anyone good lately?” Sophia winked and went back to eating her feelings, er food. Kim gave her an irritated look but took the change of subject for what it was.

“No, not really. It’s been a bit slow actually. A lot of the members like to play out in the open when the weather is nice, so there’s not much need to come in. Once the weather gets cooler we will be full again. Perfect timing. The new extension will be done by then so more kinky fuckery can continue.” Kim winked and Sophia groaned. She knew damn well how much Sophia hated that damn book that which shall not be named and she loved digging it in whenever she had the chance.

“Cute. So what’s this new construction all about?” As Kim went on in detail about all the new toys and fun furniture that the club is getting Sophia’s phone went off in her pocket. She checked real quick to see if it was important before picking it up. Nothing pissed her off more then when you were out to eat and socialize with friends then when you see people texting at the damn table. When she saw the unknown number she furrowed her brow and was quick to hit the fuck you button. Her heart started racing and she shoved the phone back in her pocket. The last time someone called her from a number in that area was…

Sophia nearly jumped out of her seat when her phone vibrated again telling her she had a voicemail. Kim’s hand covered hers that was gripping the side of the table so hard her knuckles were turning white.

“Soph, look at me. Sophia!” Her head was spinning and Kim spoke to her calmly trying to keep her from freaking out further. “Who was that? I haven’t seen you this on edge since…” Kim just about jumped out of her seat when Sophia stopped her.

“ I don’t know who it was. I just saw the number and, and. Fuck!” With a shaking hand Sophia pulled her cell out of her pocket and looked at Kim.

“I’m here. Maybe it was just a wrong number. Do you want me to listen to it?” Sophia shook her head and laughed nervously.

“No, it’s fine. You’re probably right.” She didn’t want Kim to know how terrified she was to listen to this voicemail but she knew her poker face said it all. She held her breath as she hit the voicemail button and put her cell to her ear.

“Hey Sophia, it’s Brandon….” Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest when she heard his voice. She took a deep breath and Kim sank back in her chair and smacked her arm.

“I told you it was nothing.” But it wasn’t nothing. Brandon had called and asked to talk to her soon. How the hell did the guy even get her number? She knew then that Kim had over heard the voice mail because when she looked at her best friend she just shrugged and gave her a go get em smirk. Sophia was going to kill her; just as soon as she was done listening to Brandon's smooth husky voice that has been stuck in her head all week. 

Monday, September 23, 2013

Just Another After School Special - Part Four

Part Four 
Eva Rayne

I was just thinking about you.
How was I supposed to reply to that? It wasn't until I was staring at his text message on my phone that I realized part of me had been hoping he wouldn't text me back, that Tori and I had been wrong and he was just my teacher. Another, surprisingly large, part of me was excited. The butterflies in my stomach went crazy as I let myself wonder just what exactly he had been thinking about me.
"Earth to Izzie," Tori's voice broke through my thoughts as she waved her hand in front of my face. 
"What are you going to say?" she asked once she was sure she had my attention. 
"I don't know," I replied honestly, shrugging my shoulders.
"I do!" And before I could stop her, Tori plucked my phone out o my hands and started typing. I was on my feet in an instant, trying to wrestle the phone from her, but I was too late. 
"What did you do?" I asked with a groan as she finally released her death grip on my phone. 
"Absolutely nothing," she sang as she picked up her make up. "Anyway, I have to run, I'm late. Have fun tonight!" and with a wink, she disappeared through the bathroom. 
After glaring at her retreating back I turned my attention back to the phone in my hand, hitting the unlock button. The screen lit up, revealing the conversation with Nick and Tori's incriminating text. 
What about me?
I groaned, mentally yelling ever nasty thing I could think of at Tori. It's not like I could tell him that it wasn't me who sent that text, after all, even though nothing had happened he was still my teacher. I didn't want to scare him off by making him think I had told the whole world. 
I half expected to not head back from him, so when my phone chimed not thirty seconds later I was surprised. Apparently 'my' sudden forwardness had been a good thing.
How about I tell you in person? I was just about to go out for a late dinner, care to join me? 
I could feel the blush creeping onto my cheeks as I started typing, already trying to plan an outfit. 
Yeah, sure, that sounds great.
The second I hit the send button I started flipping through the contents of my closet. The purple tank top I was wearing would work. It hugged my body in all the right places and showed just the right amount of cleavage. I had just found the right pair of jeans - skinny jeans with sparkly back pockets - when my phone beeped from my bed. 
Awesome! I live in the campus apartments right behind the library. Wanna come by here and I'll drive?
I read his text while pulling off my sweats. So much for a quiet night of studying. I danced around my room in my underwear as I texted him back, saying that sounded perfect and I'd head that way in a few minutes. 
Once the text sent I pulled on my jeans and started trying to perfect my hair and make up. He texted me one last time giving me the specifics of where his apartment was. The 'see you soon' at the end made the butterflies in my stomach start going crazy once more. 

Fifteen minutes later I found myself knocking on Nick's apartment door. It wasn't until now that I realized once again just how insane this was and started getting nervous again. 
But then Nick opened the door. "Hey Izzie, I'm glad you came."

Saturday, September 21, 2013

Dear Jon - Chapter # 8

Hello all! My name is V.L. Locey.  I am a self-published and traditionally published author that lives in the mountains of Pennsylvania with my husband of over twenty-two years, my daughter who is seventeen, a herd of dairy goats, chickens, geese, ducks, turkeys, two dogs, two cats, and a partridge in a pear tree. For more info and links about me and my work, check out the Bio tab up above.

Enough about me, let`s get to the romance!

Dear Jon

Chapter Eight


V.L. Locey


                Morning came, and with it the realization that kids are agents of Lucifer. I had never spent a more horrific night, and that included the trip to Maryland with Charlotte where we both woke up in some man`s bed hung-over, covered with honey and feathers and sporting welts on our asses that made sitting down for a week nigh onto impossible. 

I was seated at the shitty kitchen table, nursing a shitty cup of coffee, while a pair of shitty geese stood by the back door making enough noise to raise the dead. If they were looking for food, they were SOL. The pinching bastard and bitch could starve as far as I was concerned. Overall, it was a shitty start to what would probably be a very shitty day.

                Andrew had become this demon child by the time we got home last night. Instead of being tired, as you`d think a kid would be, he was a bundle of energy. He ran. He screamed. He shot his cap guns inside the bungalow. He cried. He laughed manically. He kicked and bit and shrieked for his mother, tears coursing down his flushed cheeks. I held him tight during the last tantrum; trying to talk sense to him, but what kind of sense can a four-year old who just lost his mom digest?

So, instead of talking, I just held him, pinning his wildly flailing arms down to his sides. Eventually he ran out of steam. His lashes –long and spiked with tears – dropped down like rocks. I sat there holding him while he slept. I had to stay seated. I was crying too damn hard to get up and pull the bed out of the sofa. Now I was wishing I had some stronger coffee and a smoke. The last scoop of grinds I found in a ceramic canister in the fridge weren`t enough to get me moving. I even over-perked the pot in hopes of a better mug. It was a no-go. And sitting under my piss-poor mug of tea-colored coffee was the folder. I reached for it. My fingers shook like that rum-soaked bum I knew back in Greenwich. Shuffling through the bills and accounts payable, my throat getting tighter, I located a long envelope hidden among the nicely phrased and quite sympathetic demands for money.


That was all that was on the front of the envelope. My name in my sister`s incredibly neat script hit me like an uppercut from Jake LaMotta. I did not want to open it. I had to. The blueberry with the legal degree would be expecting me to have read this last missive from my sister. He didn`t know the things I had said to her, and her to me, that day of dad`s funeral. I placed the envelope to the top of the folder and stared at it as if it held some ancient mystery, or the key to my future. Tears dampened my scruffy cheeks.

“They want bread.”

The sound of Andy`s sleepy voice so close and unexpected startled me terribly. The mug of coffee flew from my hand, landing on the table. Coffee – if you dared call it that – doused the folder. I leaped to my feet, geese honking, kid staring and grabbed up the legal work but it was too late to keep the stack dry. Cussing under my breath, I threw the entire mess on the counter, flung the back door open and shouted things at those two white geese that would make the honey and whip man in Maryland blush.

“Assholes,” Andrew whispered behind me. Panting like a deranged person, I closed my eyes, counted to forty, and then stepped aside so the four year old could go give his geese a crust of dry bread. There he stood, no taller than the gander; his sandy hair knotted from sleep, his green pajamas wrinkled, and his little toes bare, feeding his friends while calling them words ranging from asshole to zebra-fucker. I was screwing this up so badly . . .

“Let`s get dressed,” I said weakly, watching the kid face the future with more aplomb than I could ever hope to possess. At least he hadn`t cried this morning. “You want some breakfast at the Blue Hen?”

Andy looked over his shoulder at me and nodded. “Can I have Coca-Cola?” he asked as the goose stole the last slice of bread in the house and ran off with it, the gander literally snapping at her tail.

“Maybe we ought to go with milk for breakfast, okay?”

He thought about it. His tongue was caught between his teeth just like me when I`m deep in thought. My knees felt weak.

“Chocolate malted milk?”


It didn`t seem quite real.

Funeral Services - $45.00
Casket - $150.00

I glanced from the bill in my hand to the tall, gaunt man in black seated behind a frilly desk. The smell of lemon cleanser couldn’t quite disguise the reek of embalming fluid in the air. Andy was in my lap, his face in my neck, his clammy fingers digging into my shoulder. I guess the funeral director scared him as badly as he did me just for different reasons.

“This is quite a lot of money,” I managed to say and immediately felt like a shit. “I mean, she was worth it, of course, but is there any way we can lower the cost? Is there a casket that doesn`t cost a hundred and fifty dollars?”

Mr. Ezekiel Martin stared at me flatly, his long hands folded on his desk.

“I`m not trying to be cheap,” I whispered, as if Betty`s son wouldn`t hear every damned word I said, “It`s just that I`m an up-and-comer, you know?”

“Do you have any savings?” the ghoul asked. Andrew nearly choked me; his thin arms tightened terribly when Mr. Martin spoke. “I hate to be so blunt, but according to our files there was no life insurance to speak of. You`re listed as the person to send all bills to. This is you, is it not, Mr. Porter?” he asked, turning a legally signed contract for services between my sister and this house of the dead. One skeletal finger tapped at the line where my name and address in Greenwich were typed out. The fucker knew it was me, so why pretend otherwise. I nodded. He spun the document back to face him.

“I`ll have to contact my bank in New York.”

“Please, feel free to use our phone.”

I was left alone then. Andy clung to me like a monkey as I rung up the operator. Within twenty minutes, my life savings of four hundred and seventy-three bucks was being mailed to me here in Hannity Hills. Mr. Martin seemed very pleased with that news and informed me that the service would be Monday at nine AM sharp. The minister`s fees could be added onto the bill for the funeral, if I wished.

“Sure,” I said and stood up. Save me from filling out another check. I had to go buy a plot yet that, and that was fifty bills. Betty was going to break me in a matter of days. Carrying the solid weight of a four year old out of the eerily white funeral home on the corner of Main St. and Creston Lane, I couldn`t decide if I should sit down on the curb and cry, or stand in the town square to scream at the heavens. Andy sniffled into my neck. I was furious with my sister, and sick at myself for being mad at her for dying. Standing beside my car parked too close to the curb, I saw that Blue Ford truck rumble past, the dent in the passenger door looking much worse in the light of day.

“Shit.” I peeled my nephew from my neck. Closing the door carefully, I followed the backend of the truck, much like I had the Ford`s owner, until it made a left onto Monument Street. If I was shelling out money, I might as well go see Ross Coleman to make an offer of reparations. Maybe God would smile down on me, and Ross would laugh off my offer then ask me out to dinner. Sliding behind the wheel, a snotty-nosed whining orphan at my side, I figured God would do lots of things for the queer from New York, but smiling down on him wasn`t one of them.



Friday, September 20, 2013

The Good Girl - Chapter Three

If this happens again, I'm going to spank you. How could one simply uttered ultimatum throw my world into absolute chaos?

My name is Maxi McConnell and I live a double life. Don’t worry. It’s not nearly as nefarious as it sounds. It’s more a simple case of perfection vs. reality. The Perfect Maxi is just that… perfect. Impeccable clothes, immaculate hair and make-up, topped off by a sparkling personality. The Real Maxi…not so much.

I’ve happily played the role of Perfect Maxi for Thomas Graham, my sexy attorney boyfriend over the last several months. But something happened recently that sent our relationship careening into uncharted territory. It seems Thomas doesn’t want Perfect Maxi, he wants Good Girl Maxi. The only problem is I’m not sure how Real Maxi fits into the equation, or if she does at all.

Read Chapter One - Here
Read Chapter Two - Here

The Good Girl
By Fiona Summerville

Chapter Three

As a paralegal, my work consists of quite a bit of research, on and off line, so taking a few moments at lunch to surf the internet on my obsession du jour seemed harmless. I typed in my first query: “should I let him spank me” and hit enter. My eyes grew wide. Wow! 58,300 results in thirty seconds. Apparently there was a lot of spanking research going on in the land of Google. I garnered an odd sense of comfort knowing I wasn’t the only one curious or in the same position.

I clicked on the first result that caught my eye. In it, a woman's husband had wanted to spank her for many years and recently she had caught him masturbating to images online because his urges had gotten out of control.  She asked her fellow cyber “spankees” for advice on whether or not to give in to his wishes. The majority of the people told her to go for it. Wow. I couldn’t believe this had been an ever present specter in her marriage for years and she was only now dealing with it. I suppose I was fortunate that Thomas had been up front with me about his desires right away.

I moved on to another result. This one discussed all the various techniques that could be employed to spank a person. Gah! I’d never thought there might be so many different ways Thomas could spank me. Unfortunately, now that it had been brought to my attention, my mind did what my mind does so well and started over-thinking the possibilities. My body, not to be outdone, responded in kind by getting over-stimulated. Probably not the best of ideas since I was at work, but the damage was done.  So there I sat, dipping my baby carrots into ranch dressing as I imagined all the different ways Thomas might want to deliver my punishment. Bent over, or over his knee? With or without panties? Indoors? Outdoors? With or without an audience? God, the possibilities were endless and each one made me squirm in my chair a little more.

However enlightening, the information also gave me pause. Did I really want Thomas to spank me? If I did, that meant I’d have to intentionally break one of his rules. Was I prepared to do that?

Yes, no, no... Maybe?

Enough! It was all too much. I had to stop. Shutting down my browser, I tossed the last of my lunch in the trash and headed downstairs to clear my head.

Later that afternoon I bumped into Keith, one of the firm's junior associates, when I stopped by the kitchen for my 3:30 cup of coffee and candy break. He sauntered over to the vending machine and leaned against it while I waited for it to dispense my candy bar. He gave me an odd, bordering on creepy, grin.

“Soooo, Maxi, who wants to spank you?”

"Excuse me?"

"Your web search. I saw it."

Fuck!  I knew I should have cleared my cache. "What were you doing on my computer?"

"George and I were in the middle of a meeting on the Valencia Villas case and his computer froze up. You were still at lunch, so I jumped on your computer to look something up.” He leered at me. “I had no idea you were so…”

"So, what?"


Ugh! I shuddered. The long drawn out way he uttered the word made me want to seek both a shower and a vaccination.  As I stooped to retrieve my candy bar from the bin, I could feel Keith’s lecherous stare still boring into me. I stood and locked eyes with him.

"Oh, I am, Keith," I leered, moving in on him until he was backed up firmly against the wall. "I'm really into spanking…men. Hard. I use a paddle or a riding crop and I whip them until they cry like little girls.” I took a deep shuddering breath in and expelled it. “It really turns me on."

Giving him one last soul withering look, I turned on my heel, and walked out of the kitchen. It felt good to shock the slimy weasel’s sensibilities. But as I walked back to my desk, I panicked as I wondered how long it would take before that wicked little rumor spread throughout the office. Fabulous...just freakin’ fabulous.


After that little incident, I decided it would be in my best interest to do my research at home. But that presented an entirely different set of problems as one of Thomas' rules was that I wasn't supposed to look at porn without him. Unfortunately, as one might imagine, researching spanking and BDSM online tended to lead to viewing porn at some point during the research, so once again, I was in a quandary. Did I heed his warning and suspend all forms of research, or did I continue? I still had too many unanswered questions for me to quit, so I continued on with my quest for knowledge of all things BDSM. 

Keep in mind, I'm not a stupid girl and I could have covered my tracks by deleting my browser history, but I didn't bother. I never thought he would check. Ok…that’s a lie. A part of me hoped he would check. Thomas's punishment for surfing porn, or as I liked to call it “doing research”, without him amounted to a clamp on my clit. I had no idea what that entailed, but I had to admit the thought intrigued me. So, the next time Thomas was over I left him in the bedroom while I took a shower, and I left the computer on. Oops! Remember...self-sabotage is my middle name.

When I came out of the bathroom, he was standing in the hallway, his arms crossed over his chest, wearing a look that told me he had checked. Oh, boy.

"Are you ready?"

Although I had, consciously or subconsciously, set the wheels of this train in motion, I shook my head.

"Then you’d better get ready."

He took me by the hand and led me to the bed. He pulled off my robe and laid me back on the mattress. I watched curiously as he pulled open the drawer to my nightstand. Apparently he’d given this some forethought because I don't keep anything that could remotely be construed as a sex toy in my nightstand. As he withdrew an alligator clip, I whimpered and tried to sit up, but he pushed me back down.

"Maxi, spread your lips apart."

Put that clip down, and I might. My gaze bounced from the clip in his hand to his coal black eyes and back again. I couldn’t bring myself to move. 

"I said, spread your lips apart.” His voice was firmer, edgier.

This time, I did what he said, and when he captured my clit with the clamp, the moan that burst from my lips was like no sound I’d ever made. It was guttural, primal and reverberated throughout the room. God, I hoped my neighbors weren’t home.

"I think we need to have another talk, Maxi," he said. I tried to focus on his words, I really did, but the only thing I could think about was the searing pain radiating from my core. The clamp was tight, my clit was throbbing and Thomas was speaking to me in near conversational tones. What. The. Fuck. "I think I need to elucidate on what i expect from you as my partner."

Really? He was choosing this particular moment to have the relationship talk? Was he fucking serious? My breath was coming out in hiccups as I poured every ounce of willpower I had into lying still and not crying out.

"I like to play," he said softly.

A tiny whimper escaped my lips. He considered this play? My mind reeled as I tried to understand how such an excruciating pain could even remotely be considered playful, and for whom. Because, at that moment, I certainly wasn’t feeling it.

"You’re not following me, are you?"

I bit my lip and shook my head.

"I’ve tried to ease you into this," he said, "I needed to be sure that this was something you wanted. Not everyone can appreciate my sort of play, but I think you do. The thought of it makes you wet, but that’s just the buildup. See, the real satisfaction comes in that space between pain and pleasure. The release, or surrender. Here, let me show you." He took the clamp off, replacing the jagged metal teeth with the softness and warmth of his mouth. The pain of the clamp dissolved into a pulsing desire which rolled right into a mind blowing orgasm under his ministrations. 

Now, I understood. In the right situation and in the right hands the line between pain and pleasure became blurred. I loved the end result. I just wasn’t sure if I could endure everything that led up to it, but with Thomas, I might be willing to try.

He slid up beside me and smiled. "Are you ready to listen now, baby?"

I smiled and purred my assent as the last of the orgasm shuddered through me. Wait, where did he get that blindfold? I blinked and pulled away slightly. He must have read the trepidation in my eyes.

"Shhh...It helps your focus. Trust me,” he whispered against my ear as he slid the black silk over my eyes.

I did trust him. I trusted him more than I had trusted anyone in years. I found comfort in that knowledge, but at the same time there was something patently worrisome about not being able to see him or what he was doing.

"I try never to come on too strong," he murmured as his fingers began to roam over my body. I shivered. His voice was hushed. His touch was languorous, hypnotic. "My intent is not to scare. I haven’t scared you, have I?"

I shook my head.

"But you’re curious. I saw the sorts of things you were looking up online."

I drew in a sharp breath, and I felt my skin flush with embarrassment.

"Don’t worry, baby. Curiosity is a good thing," he whispered as his teeth nipped at my ear lobe. "It’s important for you to know what you want. Important to understand what I can give you. If you're not curious, this isn’t going to work."

His lips found my breasts and he suckled and laved each of them, his fingers pinching one while his lips concentrated on the other. He was right, the blindfold did help. It heightened the sensation of every kiss, every lick, and every feather-light touch.  As he kissed his way down my body, he continued talking.

“But here’s the thing, Maxi, if you’re not open with me, we can't do this. We can’t be together. You need to be able to tell me where your boundaries are. What lines I can, and can’t cross."

His mouth hovered just over my mound, his breath tickling and heating that which was already enflamed and approaching four-alarm fire status, but he just…kept…talking.

"I'm good,” he said, his tongue flicking across my clit, "but you have to be my guide."

"So, before we take this little adventure any further, I need you to come up with a safe word. I know you understand its purpose. Remember, I saw your search history." I could feel his lips curl into a smile as he worked me toward my second orgasm. "Make sure you have it the next time we meet."

I tried to say yes, but I could only scream as his mouth sent me careening over the edge again and my body splintered into a million orgasmic shards.